Review: "Leopoldstadt"

The madness of the Holocaust -- the Nazi's mass extermination of millions of European Jews during the Second World War -- remains one of history's greatest crimes. Grappling with it has confounded humanity ever since. Numerous artists have tried to make sense of something that is fundamentally insane -- most famously by Steven Spielberg in the 1993 movie Schindler's List. 

The brilliant playwright Tom Stoppard, himself a refugee of WWII, makes his own attempt in his new play Leopoldstadt which I recently saw on Broadway.

Whereas other Holocaust stories brood on the horror of the camps and the brutality of the Nazis, Stoppard does something different but, in some ways, even more devastating -- he tells the story of a Jewish Viennese family from 1899 to 1955 and how their safe, beautiful, sometime scandalous life is upended and destroyed by genocide. It's an intimate story of the fabric of family being torn apart, rendered asunder, only leaving lonely strands behind. In the play this is literally symbolized by the string game cat's cradle -- the strings are pulled apart but still connected, forever bound together.

The plot concerns the Merz family, a wealthy family of factory owners. At the turn-of-the-century, the family is happy and thriving, although not all is clockwork harmony. Some of the family members have converted to Christianity in order to blend into Viennese society while others have held steadfast to their Jewish faith and identity. Their existence in precarious -- in some ways they are respected citizens of the then-Austro-Hungarian empire, protected by and pledging fealty to the Emperor Franz Joseph, living freely and enjoying their hard-earned success. But as Jews (or former Jews), they are still held suspect by society, kept at arms lengths -- as shown when one of them is denied membership in an exclusive Viennese club. Clandestine love affairs and old family squabbles are upended by the First World War. By the 1920s some family members have been killed and maimed by the war, several relationships are strained, and the mighty diversified empire they belonged to, that gave them safe (if sometimes sneering) harbor, is now gone -- replaced by a weakened republic. Eventually, in 1938, the Nazis come, annexing Austria with the "Anschluss" and literally beating down their doors, hauling many of them off to the camps. A decade after WW2, in the mid-1950s, only three of them are left alive, living in different countries, forever haunted and distraught at the lost lives -- some of which they aren't even old enough to remember. This is an intimate story of a massive crime, where we see the almost complete erasure of a family -- a tradition, a way of life, a whole world -- as the actors literally vacate the stage. We see it in the void, the absences of the people who are not there but should be. It hits home in a way that only great drama, great storytelling can do.

Haunting.

Leopoldstadt is the name of a largely Jewish neighborhood in Vienna but, in this play, it becomes something more -- the place in memory where family happiness and acceptance thrived before horror invaded it. As always, Stoppard's scenes and dialogues are superlative but unlike some of his past plays (like the Jumpers, The Invention of Love or Arcadia), it's less intensely intellectual and dense or more emotional and free flowing. Unlike most plays these days which have small casts, this one has a huge cast of 39, that fill the stage before, as indicated, they gradually vanish. Amongst the large cast, Josh Malina plays Hermann, the family patriarch, heading a great cast including Brandon Uranowitz as Ludwig, his brother-in-law and intellectual sparring partner, and Faye Castelow as Gretl, Hermann's unfaithful wife. All of the performances are excellent.

Even though a Stoppard play is a feast of smart dialogue, there's one moment in Leopoldstadt that is purely visual and deeply powerful -- before the time-jump to 1924, at the end of the 19th -century fin-de-siecle part, Hermann has returned home to a family seder. While he knows his wife has been unfaithful, while he himself has converted to Christianity, he joins the seder and recites the prayers. He realizes he cannot run away from his roots or his family, he cannot deny who he is. Then he and his wife embrace while the other family members come together and dance, spinning around in joy while wearing their elegant clothes, purely happy. Its shows us the accomplishments and happiness of this family that will soon be destroyed -- a reminder that we should always hold onto the people and things we love, and be forever vigilant to those dark forces that seek to destroy them. 

In that Leopoldstadt is, sadly, more relevant than ever before.